Table mountain, the striking mesa above Cape Town, lords over another impressive African monument: the multistory Golden Acre shopping center. Lunchtime crowds pour into the glassy, brightly lit structure, and from within it is impossible not to notice the dominance of South Africa’s second-richest man, Christo Wiese. His bargain-bin clothier, PEP, pulls foot traffic to the basement. Above it, you’ll find his more upscale Ackermans chain. Around the corner is his OK Furniture and his grocery chain, Shoprite, which takes up two floors.
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By and large, they all carry the same message. PEP’s window ads, accented in canary yellow, proclaim it the home of the “Lowest Price in South Africa.” Brightly colored bunting in OK Furniture heralds a similar promise. Shoprite (among its many slogans: “Lower prices, that’s our promise”) will even play moneylender, fronting customers up to R7,500 (roughly $470).
“The business has basically been built on one slogan: Low prices you can trust. Just very, very low everyday prices,” says Wiese (whose name, fittingly, is pronounced VEE-sa, like the credit card). “I suppose we could be described as the Wal-Mart of Africa.” Underscoring the cost-conscious philosophy, the 74-year-old is telling me this at his company headquarters, in an industrial area that abuts a composter and Adult World, which sells what you think it does.
His offices, like his stores, are decidedly spare: drab beige enlivened only by some hotel- quality art (a portrait of an elephant herd hangs outside the door of the conference room he uses as an office). “People have very limited budgets,” continues Wiese, clad in a capitalist’s power uniform – blue suit, blue shirt – the very picture of the lily-white executive that still controls most of South African business. “They have to get extremely good value for their money.” His hunch – that value trumps everything – led him to create the largest retail business in Africa. Publicly traded Shoprite does revenue of $9.9 billion a year, while PEP’s parent company, Steinhoff, brings in $11.8 billion (some of it from selling cellphones and home furnishings). Combined, they net almost $2 billion in annual profits, operate more than 9,000 stores in 30 countries and employ over 200,000 people. No other African retailer comes close to rivaling their breadth and depth, and Wiese controls both.
Those stakes are largely what makes Wiese one of the planet’s richest people, with a $5.8 billion fortune. More than 60% of his wealth is in Shoprite and Steinhoff, while another 30% or so comes from his shares of Brait, an investment vehicle Wiese uses to buy other companies, many of them outside South Africa. His stock in Tradehold, a real estate firm, accounts for much of the remaining 10%.
But if Wiese is to continue his expansion he must move outside of his African comfort zone. The continent isn’t booming the way it once was. Economic growth across Africa has slid from close to 7% in 2007 to about 4% in 2014, the last year for which data are available. In coming years it isn’t likely to much surpass that figure. South Africa, still Wiese’s most important market, is emblematic of the larger trend – stuck at sub-2% growth for the foreseeable future. The slowdown gravely threatens Wiese’s ambitions. He can shut his eyes and picture his empire twice as big as it is today, but for it to grow that large, he must look beyond Africa.
And he’s already started. PEP is expanding rapidly in Europe, while Wiese is snapping up all sorts of companies through Brait, including majority stakes in British discount retailer (sound familiar?) New Look for $1.2 billion last June and Richard Branson’s fitness center chain, Virgin Active, for $1 billion a month later. Put broadly, Wiese is a little Sam Walton, in terms of his focus, and a little Warren Buffett, in terms of amalgamating a portfolio. As a matter of fact, he’s beaten Buffett handily lately. His holding company, Brait, has trounced Berkshire Hathaway in total returns over three years (160% versus 31%), five years (230% to 51%) and ten years (314% to 121%).
<div id="attachment_4832" style="width: 210px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4832" class="size-medium wp-image-4832" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/0000171388-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA – APRIL 22: Billionaire businessman Dr. Christo Wiese on April 22, 2009 in Johannesburg, South Africa. (Photo by Gallo Images / Foto24 / Sharief Jaffer)</div>
“Christo has been a massive risk taker his whole life,” says Syd Vianello, a retail analyst in Johannesburg, who has observed Wiese over many decades. “Africa is not a place for sissies. You’ve got to have nerves of steel. In Africa they see him as a genius.”
The breathtaking views of Cape Town, where land and sea dramatically converge to produce vistas of green mountains towering above deep blue water, can be quickly forgotten on a nine-hour drive north to the dry, hot savanna city of Upington, an unsightly provincial town alongside the Orange River, close to the Kalahari Desert. Upington does possess one unique site: a statue of a donkey, a rare tribute to the quintessential beast of burden. It is not undeserved. Starting in the 1880s, farmers, employing donkeys to pump water, tamed this rough part of the country with an almost puritanical determination.
Wiese’s father was one of those men. He owned a sheep and cattle farm, as well as a car dealership in town. “People in Upington were hardworking, very neat, very orderly – disciplined,” says Wiese. “People who were not neat always stood out like a sore thumb.” For college, Wiese attended Stellenbosch University, one of South Africa’s better schools, situated in a sleepy area awash in wine and vineyards. He studied law and became head student of his residence hall and an active member of a progressive student organization.
After graduating in 1967, he decided he’d rather return home and join the small retail business owned by his cousin’s husband than become an attorney. The company had around ten discount stores near Upington, which were called PEP. With Wiese on board and helping guide expansion, sales went from 4 million rand in 1970 to 29 million rand (around $100 million today) four years later. Fast growth, but Wiese lost interest after a moment of self-discovery.
“I had worked out for myself that I’m not really” – he trails off, as if about to utter a dirty word – “a number-two man.” There was another concern, too. “I started thinking about getting married,” he says. “And the way I lived in those days, I was away from home 20 days a month. That’s no way to build a marriage. So I thought if I go and practice law, at least I’ll be home much more.”
While working as a barrister in criminal and commercial law in Cape Town, Wiese, restless still, made a futile run for parliament in 1977 on the opposition party ticket, partly inspired by his new father-in-law, a controversial member of parliament expelled from the ruling, pro-apartheid party for dissension. Wiese also grew interested in something that has always attracted the ambitious in South Africa – diamonds. He found a mine nearer his hometown, in Richtersveld. (“The area has a stark beauty, like a moon landscape. Very sparse vegetation, very little rainfall.”) He bought it for about $20 million in today’s currency and began mining and trading diamonds.
<div id="attachment_4830" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4830" class="size-medium wp-image-4830" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/AV_00022953-300x199.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="199" />JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA – JUNE 12: Billionare businessman Christo Wiese on June 12, 2012 in Johannesburg, South Africa. (Photo by Gallo Images / Financial Mail / Hetty Zantman)</div>
Five years after purchasing it, in 1981, he sold it, and looking for his next chapter, he turned to his cousin and PEP, which by then had 450 locations, including a grocery business, Shoprite, it had added a few years earlier. In taking a check (worth roughly $100 million in current terms) for his successful, middling business, the cousin was set for life. Wiese, no longer number two, pictured something much grander. “Maybe I was more ambitious,” he says, quietly, eyebrows arched.
What Wiese envisioned was retail at its rawest, and he understood how attractive it could be. In modest, unadorned storefronts, PEP sold only the simplest kinds of clothes (“underwear, schoolwear, very basic stuff”). The choice between a white shirt and a blue one was often the most complicated one in the store. Shoprite did the same with groceries. All that mattered to Wiese’s target market – poor whites and a black population kept systematically impoverished – was price.
In a perverse twist, apartheid ensured him a gigantic customer base of some 20 million nonwhites, who made up more than 70% of the population. They were incapable of climbing the ladder or earning more money – or shopping elsewhere. And the heavy economic sanctions against South Africa meant little in the way of foreign competition. It was a perfect market: massive and artificially protected.
“Wiese saw the opportunity faster than anybody else,” says retail analyst Vianello. “He targeted the bottom end of the market, and nobody could argue his business had any element of waste. He cut out all the extravagance and gave people what they wanted at the lowest possible price.” The concept proved popular enough for Wiese to begin expanding aggressively, sometimes opening as many as 100 new stores a year. While other retailers concentrated on stores in large markets, he eagerly plunged into rural and poorer areas. He’d rather his customers spend their money in his stores than spend it traveling to them.
Wiese was maniacal about costs, a business necessity in lowmargin retailing and perfectly fitting with his personality – a billionaire who keeps spare change neatly stashed in a tiny bottle inside his Lexus SUV. “Christo is stingy,” says James “Whitey” Basson, Wiese’s right-hand man at Shoprite since day one and an old buddy from Stellenbosch University. “He’ll give me the nicest bottle of champagne as a present, and I’ll open it up, and I’ll see he forgot to take out the message: It’s a bottle from Lord So-and-So. He’s a regifter.”
To guard against corporate expenses, PEP manufactured many of its clothes in 11 factories; one was situated next to the company’s modest offices in Parow Industria. Most important, from almost the start PEP relied on a central distribution system with warehouses to store goods, a total departure from how most South African retailers operated (with many deliveries from many suppliers to each shop). “That was a no-brainer,” Basson says. “Getting one truckload to a store is substantially cheaper than getting 30 trucks to wait outside the store and offload 30 different times.”
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In 1986 Wiese spun off Shoprite and PEP into separate public companies while maintaining control of both. Good timing. Four years later Nelson Mandela was freed after spending almost three decades in prison. Apartheid was ending. South African companies were no longer pariahs, and Wiese began to expand elsewhere in Africa. A year after Mandela ascended to the presidency in 1994, Shoprite opened its first store in central Africa, in Zambia, followed by Mozambique, Swaziland, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Uganda. PEP had a similar trajectory. Their stores’ simple model made them easily exportable.
“Wiese and Basson sat down and took a view that they could conquer Africa, and they went out and conquered Africa,” says Vianello. Shoprite’s size ($2 billion in 1996 sales with about $120 million in cash flow and little debt) allowed it to move more quickly than local rivals. “How long does it take to clear a container in Angola or Nigeria? What bribes do you have to pay to get supplies in? Who on earth would finance them to put up stores? They had to build their own stores themselves. No one else would.” (Wiese insists he has spent not one rand on bribery.)
Other growth came through acquisitions. By the 1990s he had already made six purchases to expand both Shoprite and PEP, pushing PEP’s operations as far as Britain and its sales to more than $2 billion. In 1997 he bought OK Bazaars (and its nearly 300 grocery and furniture stores) from South African Breweries for just one rand. The catch? OK Bazaars was losing around $40 million annually, which was just about how much Shoprite was booking in annual profits. It could be kept on life support for just so long.
“We bet the farm,” says Wiese. He reached for a familiar page from the playbook: “cutting frills, lowering overhead,” including renegotiating several onerous leases. As it turns out, OK Bazaars had good bones and had simply been mismanaged. “Christo is a fantastic corporate deal thinker,” says Basson. “He always makes me think: What would the alternative be if I didn’t make a deal? What happens if the opposition buys the company?”
Wiese didn’t really develop a profile outside of Africa until recently, and to his annoyance, his arrival was trumpeted not by a cunning deal but by something more ignoble. It came after U.K. customs officials detained him at London City Airport in 2009 with two suitcases filled with nearly $1 million in cash. They seized it, suspecting illicit origins. The British and South African press merrily picked up on the incident – apparently suspecting Wiese had been nabbed for money laundering – and were further emboldened by Wiese’s stubbornness in fighting for the funds’ return and his insistence that the amount was “insignificant.” (The Daily Mail’s gleeful headline: “It’s Just Peanuts To Me.”) The government ended up returning the money – interest attached – but the damage was done. He still won’t talk publicly about the incident, and until recently, it was pretty much the extent of his reputation in the West.
That’s now beginning to change, and much of his activity is still in Britain. When his holding company, Brait, first showed an interest in stretching beyond South Africa in 2012, it invested in British supermarket business Iceland Foods and added to its position in November 2015, when it paid about $275 million to increase its position from 19% to 57%. Two more deals came last year: the stakes purchased in discount retailer New Look and gym chain Virgin Active. A second Wiese company, Invicta, has put its capital into industrial companies: unsexy firms with predictable, recurring revenue streams, like Singapore-based Kian Ann Engineering, a distributor of heavy machinery parts. And a third Wiese vehicle, Tradehold, watched the value of its U.K. property portfolio increase by about 50% to roughly $120 million in February 2015 (the latest full-year results available), driven substantially by new investments in the British real estate market, where it owns residential, industrial and office space.
PEP has charged into eastern Europe, too. After its initial move into this part of the continent in 2005 (Poland mostly but also the Czech Republic and Slovakia), PEP has proven its model successful there. Its eastern European stores do about $1,800 per square meter, a 60% increase from 2012 and roughly double what a comparable competitor might do. The region is now 11% of PEP’s $2.9 billion in annual revenue (up from 5% in 2012).
As PEP broadens its store expansion into Britain it will likely run up against the most entrenched competition, including venerable discount retailer Primark. Considering this, Wiese blithely expresses a malapropism: “There’s the old American saying that only three things are certain: death, taxes and competition. You can’t shy away from competition. You’ve just got to go meet them.” And besides, Primark tries to be fashionable, while PEP proudly does not. “We don’t have fashion. You can’t come into our stores and expect a wide selection of colors and pattern,” says Steinhoff CEO Markus Jooste. “Our stuff is for people who have to have it, not want to have it. It offers value to the bottom-end customer and gives them some dignity in what they wear.”
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Last December expansion-minded Steinhoff began trading on the Frankfurt Stock Exchange in addition to its long-standing listing in Johannesburg. But not before Wiese got slapped with a reminder that his international ambitions wouldn’t proceed without a false step. A few days before its Frankfurt debut German tax authorities raided local Steinhoff offices as part of an investigation into its accounting. Steinhoff dismisses the investigation as baseless, but it certainly spooked the company’s investors. The stock dropped about 15% in a month – wiping away almost $600 million from Wiese’s personal fortune.
Having long parried advances from those interested in buying his companies – including a visit by Wal-Mart heir and then chairman Rob Walton several years ago – Wiese sees himself firmly in command of his empire for the foreseeable future. Ahead, there’s one obvious final frontier for Africa’s retail pioneer: America. “We’ve been hesitant to plunge into the retail industry there. What can we teach them?” he says. “But we’re looking at getting involved there – one or two opportunities.
“In a decade I’m hoping you’ll find the business has grown, hopefully at the same pace as the previous decade. That will require a lot of thinking, a lot of commitment and a lot of energy – and I’m hoping that you’ll find me right here still.”

Africa’s Sam Walton

From a confiscated briefcase at Heathrow Airport to being lambasted by the press over his business with the tax man, Christo Wiese has no airs about him. Only his gold Rolex watch gives you a glimpse of his wealth.
There is no doubt that Wiese is a formidable businessman, who has made a meaningful impact in the South African retail industry. As he sits in his boardroom—which is larger than his family’s first store—overlooking Industria, Cape Town, he’s either on the phone making arrangements, giving assurances or chatting to his broker. This is a far cry from his childhood in a small South African farming town, a place he calls an oasis.
Wiese’s father was a farmer and businessman in Upington in the Northern Cape, like many in his family before him, armed with basic informal schooling and his entrepreneurial spirit. Wiese is proud when he talks about how his parents never worked for anyone.
“I grew up in a household where that [entrepreneurship] was the way one approached life, which I found was a great benefit to me,” says Wiese.
<div id="attachment_1566" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-1566" class="size-medium wp-image-1566" src="/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/Lanzerac-Main-Entrance-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />Lanzerac Wine Estate</div>
Wiese shows much affection towards his late mother, referring to her as a woman of great wisdom with a lot of drive, who had a strong influence in his life. She was a housewife who eventually owned her own business too.
Unlike his father, Wiese spent his last two years of high school at the prestigious Paarl Boys High school and moved to Cape Town to study further at UCT. After a year, he dropped out and moved back to Upington to join his father in business.
At 21, Wiese left Upington to study law at the University of Stellenbosch, whose alumni include some of South Africa’s wealthiest: Johann Rupert, Koos Bekker, GT Ferreira and Jannie Mouton. Wiese’s parents co-founded Pep Stores in 1965 and were its second largest shareholders. He worked for the company during his vacations, driving around the country with the major shareholder looking for locations to open new shops.
Wiese graduated in 1967 but returned to the family business instead of practicing law. There, Wiese dealt with administrative duties such as keeping minutes and updating share certificates. He got stuck in it and did what needed to be done.
In 1973, law came calling and Wiese practiced at the Cape Bar until 1979. During this time he bought a stake in a diamond mining company, the largest in South Africa not belonging to De Beers.
A businessman at heart, Wiese bought the controlling stake in Pep Stores from the founder in 1981, at the age of 36, and renamed it Pepkor Limited.
The decision to expand Pepkor’s footprint to Europe in the early ‘90s came about as Wiese realized that international brands would be coming to South Africa to compete with them. Once again, proving to be a savvy businessman, Wiese made the choice to take the competition to the rest of the world, with what he deemed a good formula that could be transferred to developed economies.
“We realized that as South Africa was opening up to the world, the world was opening up to South Africa,” says Wiese.
Pepkor’s business model is simple: high volume, low margin. If you look at the group’s history all the businesses follow this model except Stuttafords. The premium department store caters to the high-end customer and was a default acquisition when Pepkor bought Greatermans Department Stores in 1991. This was not the business the group wanted; their target was the Checkers supermarket chain, Stuttafords was sold a few years later.
Wiese’s Shoprite became the first of the group’s companies to expand into Zambia. The old OK Bazaar chain was bought from the government after being nationalized and run into the ground by the Kaunda government. The chain was rejuvenated and Pep opened in Zambia in 1994.
In 1999, Pepkor delisted from the Johannesburg Stock Exchange, at $331.4 million, after being listed for 27 years as Pep Stores. Pepkor had been approached by Brait, a private equity company, which advised them to delist. Brait proposed that Pepkor would do better at that stage as an unlisted entity. Following this, management acquired a substantial stake in the company. Brait owns a 37% stake in Pepkor. Wiese says the group, or parts of it, could be listed in the future.
Pepkor’s success has led it to have 
John Craig and Shoe City in its stable.
As cut-throat as business can be at times, those that are successful have spent years building and maintaining good relationships. Wiese and South African investment millionaire Jannie Mouton go a long way back. The two sit on the board of KWV Limited and Wiese used to sit on the board of Mouton’s PSG Holdings. Mouton has nothing but admiration for Wiese.
“I think what’s important is that he understands risk. He’s not scared to take risks. He believes in himself and he will back it, he’s not scared to raise money for a good business proposition,” says Mouton.
Wiese’s investment strategy is three pronged: get the best possible returns; invest in ethical businesses and remember that investing is a long-term game. This is the philosophy of the chairman of Pepkor, Shoprite, Tradehold and non-executive chairman of Invicta Holdings and Brait SA.
Tradehold is an investment holding company listed on the main board of the JSE, its main interests lie particularly in property in the United Kingdom, which is hoping to expand. Wiese owns around 80% of the company, with a market capitalization of around $137.5 million.
Invicta is an investment holding and management company with a market capitalization of around $770.6 million. The company controls and manages assets of $934 937 and finalized an acquisition in Singapore, its first outside Africa. Wiese owns around 37% of the company.
Wiese feels that the driving force of any entrepreneur should be to build businesses and help people develop. This, he says, is the true measure of success.
“The objective for people like myself is not to see how much money you can make because there’ll always be somebody richer than you. So what the heck?” says Wiese.
“I often say to people that I know a lot of people who’ve made a lot of money in different businesses, in different formats, with different styles but the one golden thread is that to make money takes decades.”
Pepkor is testament to this in its 57 years; Wiese has been part of 47 of them. As the man behind this growth, Wiese points out that it was a step-by-step process that had its ups and downs. His worst knock happened in 1985 when the rand collapsed. The company bled money, when the rand lost 50% of its value in a few months because of its significant dollar exposures. The balance sheet was under strain and the company had to be restructured. Shoprite was listed separately and some of the non-core assets were sold off. In one year, the company went from interest bearing debt of R140 million to having R110 million in the bank, at the time.
Getting out of a corner is something, Wiese says, only experience can teach you.
As a man who has done business across the continent for decades, Wiese calls himself a committed and optimistic African. He feels that Africa is shedding its old image; that a new Africa is emerging. He marvels at how people can still look at the continent with, what he calls, “old eyes”. He says that whenever something negative happens in Africa the “afro-pessimists”, as he calls them, turn it into a catastrophe but if the same were to happen anywhere else, it would purely be a setback. He considers the events at Marikana, where Lonmin mine strikes turned violent, a prime example.
Although Wiese is best-known for his business interests in retail, he has also tested other waters. Wiese was not looking to get into the hospitality industry when he bought the Lanzerac Wine Estate in 1991, on the outskirts of Stellenbosch. With a five star hotel on the premises, Wiese bought it as a new home for his family but as much as they loved the estate they loved their Clifton beach house even more.
Wiese chose not to walk away from Stellenbosch when his family did, simply because the place gave him too much pleasure. The wine estate was run down and the vineyards had been neglected for 25 years. But he saw something in it. Wiese spent a lot of money refurbishing the hotel, replanting the vineyards, building the cellars and developing the property. The magnificent 300-year-old estate was sold in 2012. The billionaire now owns Lourensford Wine Estate in Stellenbosch, bought in 1998.
On the rare occasions when Wiese isn’t too busy buying companies and making deals worth millions, he enjoys hunting, clay pigeon shooting, playing with his dog, catching up with old friends and spending the last three weeks of the year at his beach house.
None of this compares to his private game reserve in the Kalahari. Wiese always dreamt of owning a farm close to where he grew up but never spends more than two or three days at a time there. It’s his way of giving back through conservation, while running it as a business to keep it sustainable.
“If it pays and washes its own face and gives a little of a return on the capital employed, then it is sustainable,” says Wiese.
Wiese is no stranger to making headlines. In 2009, Wiese was stopped by customs official at London’s Heathrow Airport where he was carrying a briefcase filled with just over a million dollars. The money was confiscated and the matter went to court. Wiese insists that he acted on the advice that it would not be an issue. Wiese’s advocate stated that the money was less than what his client made in a week. The courts ruled in his favor and the money returned.
“It’s my money. I didn’t steal it from anybody. I didn’t defraud anybody. It’s my money and it’s certainly my right to do with it as I please,” he declares.
The media criticized the earnings of Shoprite CEO Whitey Basson, who topped the list of top earning executives in 2010, which was released by the Business Times. Basson earned more than $82.7 million that year but dropped in rankings to 20th the following year. He did however earn the largest bonus of $4,398,470 in 2011. Wiese counters that Basson is underpaid for the work he does and all he has produced for Shoprite’s stakeholders. Wiese says it’s too big a job for him to ever be tempted to do it himself.
Shoprite was bought in 1979 for R1 million, with fewer than 500 employees and eight stores. Basson was put in charge and the company is now Africa’s largest food retailer with a reported turnover of more than $9.25 billion for the year ended June 2012. Shoprite has a market capitalization of more than $23.23 billion and 2,033 stores across Africa, including the group’s subsidiaries. Wiese is the largest shareholder of Shoprite.
“I’m not an entrepreneur… You could best describe me as an entrepreneurial financer or investor,” he says.
But he understands entrepreneurs, which is exactly why he thinks so highly of Basson. He has brought others into businesses who are the opposite of Basson. These individuals, however, either didn’t grow the business or ran it down, despite their impressive credentials and promises.
In return Basson thinks highly of his boss.
“Christo Wiese is probably the most respected businessman in South Africa. He has the ability to dissect problems and opportunities without emotions or personal complexities. As non-executive chairman of Shoprite and a close personal friend we not only respect his judgments but also seek his advice,” says Basson.
Another painful media experience for Wiese was about his tax payments. He was reported as owing the South African Revenue Services, SARS, $274.905 million in unpaid taxes. While it’s unlawful to disclose a person’s tax affairs, he says that he doesn’t settle his legal matters in the press and that SARS has not dragged him to court regarding this.
“Personally I don’t have, as an individual, any taxable income because my income comes from my companies and that income comes from dividends, which are not taxable. If I owe you money, sue me,” challenges Wiese.
Wiese’s company Tradehold won a court case against the commissioner of SARS regarding additional assessment of $48,533,200 on the company’s capital gains in 2003.
This newsworthy 71-year-old billionaire is not looking to retire anytime soon. He wouldn’t know what do with himself if he did. He is, however, grooming his eldest son, Jacob (30), to take over the business. Wiese also hopes that both his daughters, one a non-practising lawyer, like her father, and the other a recent graduate from the London School of Economics, will join the family business someday.
“I asked Rob Walton, of the Walton family, whether their children are in the business and he said: ‘No’ and I said: ‘Well, what do you teach your children then?’ and he said: ‘We teach them to be responsible owners.’ And maybe that’s a good thing,” says Wiese.
The next 10 years for the Pepkor Group are said to be very much like the last 10: a continued high growth path focused on plugging into technology.

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Africa’s Sam Walton

The King of Retail